wrappings

wrapping packages is something i absolutely love.  seeing their colors and shapes beneath the tree is eye candy for me, even though the simplicity of brown paper and twine or ribbon remains my favorite.  this green holly paper shown above serves as a family wrapping tradition.  i doubt many families have one, but we do.  back in the 1940's & 50's, my grandparents owned a music and camera shop in what was  then the small town of barstow, california.  according to my mom, they had huge rolls of this very paper for wrapping gifts in the shop.  after my grandparents sold the store and moved to idaho, my grandma kept one of those giant rolls and would wrap a gift or two in it each year.  everyone looked forward to see who would receive a package wrapped in "the paper".  even after my grandmother passed away, my mom kept the remnants.  this christmas (some 50 years after the shop was sold), i received a package wrapped in this sweet family tradition.  wanting the paper to last, i captured it with my camera.

our token

HONEY

Several times a year the women at my church gather for "Women at the Well", a Saturday set aside to meet with each other and the LORD.  There is space and quiet, something difficult to carve out on our own and even together.  There is always one in December- the busiest month- an advent focus to just simply stop and listen.

Tara talked about honey, among other things, about the fact that John the Baptist found sweetness in the desert.  She mentioned the fact that honey is mentioned some 40 times in the Old Testament, but only 4 in the New.  Twice in John and twice in Revelation.  Perhaps this is because the One who is sweetness had finally arrived in our midst.  

And she brought us honey, raw and local, and encouraged us to dip some out of the jar...to observe it, play in it, taste it.

From that arose these thoughts of mine...

Hungering for Honey

Oh so heavy and slow is the waiting.
Purifying- yes, though at times I feel raw.
Sweetness promised at the tip of the
spoon, but the winter is long and the honey cold.
 
I see it golden and light-filled in the jar- 

full of sweet promise.  I see the spoon dipped deep,
then swallowed by the devouring substance.
Finally the spoon emerges, swollen with the bees’           

labor, and I know it will slide onto me.
I just don’t know when….
But I walk away with sticky fingers.

December 11, 2010 

Women at the Well

la nympheas

still in bloom...despite this late october date.  this is colorado, right?  the trees ablaze with golden light and not even a hint of frost in the air.  it seems unbelievable, but i captured this lone waterlily today at the denver botanic gardens in the pool of reflections.  and now i see what inspired monet to paint so many nympheas and the water around them.  how clearly i remember the day i sat in wonder at Musée de l'Orangerie in paris enraptured by monet's wall length canvases of these beauties.

for you

throughout my formative years i went to big churches with multiple services and a sea of unknown faces where it was a surprise to actually run into someone you knew.  these churches offered their own gifts to my family and me, but something was lacking.  i just didn't know what it was.

after college i found myself in the company of a house church, which was a breath of fresh air and life-shaping in many ways...but it was only for a season.  and then i moved to a little town in japan.  a little town with 3 little churches.  no longer was this a choice in the land of plenty.  suddenly mine was a known face among 25 others.  when someone was absent, their presence was missed.  and the presence of others greatly felt- for better or worse.

back in the US, i have found another small church.  or rather, it found me.  i don't know every face, but i know and am known by many.  i love it.  i love the people, i love the pastor's heart, and i love the palpable sincerity that oozes out the doors.  and perhaps i love best that we all walk up to take the bread and wine and remember Jesus together every week. the pastor and some of the deacons know me (and most people in our church) by name.  i am moved that someone's hands break the bread and someone else's hands pour the wine. and i know those someones.

today while we worshiped and took turns walking down to receive the bread, the deaconess broke off a small piece of bread and put it into my waiting palm while looking me in the eye saying, 

"beth, the body of Christ broken for you".  

and then i walked to the person holding the cup who also looked me in the eye and said, 

"beth, the blood of Christ shed for you". 

and i ate and drank and remembered that Jesus came as a person with a voice, with hands and with eyes.  a voice i would hear, hands that would offer me life, and eyes that would look into mine.  


this reality is inescapable...and so very personal.  Jesus is holding out life to me.  His body was broken and His blood shed.  He overcame death for me.  and He offers me life to the full.  and while doing this, He speaks my name.

honest weight

saw this old scale at "the savory spice shop" in downtown denver.  

i loved the old look and inscribed promise,

"NO SPRINGS - HONEST WEIGHT".

no doubt people would prefer if their home scales did not 

promise such pious readings...

the teaching fountain

hidden 

out back but 

eye-catching

as the droplets

fell from one

layer to the

next

reflecting clouds

and sky each 

drop splashing

then creating

a liquid mirror

on textured

stone

enraptured

i look long

and hard at 

the so-named

teaching fountain

there.

hidden

inside but

eye-catching

as the water

spilt down from

lash to cheek to

chin

reflecting a storm

of longing

rivers form 

creating wet

mirror exposing

her soul on the

 cheek

enraptured

i look long

and hard at 

the so-named

teaching fountain

here.

love it more

so often we settle for
the screen.
actually we love it.


side by side, watching 
that which is other,
but shared.


the laughs, the wit,
the way we feel at
the end.


but lately we've been
walking, and i 
love it more.


today the wind was
cooler than i thought.
my hair whipped 
around, a mess.


side by side,
looking.
hand in hand,
talking.


the blossoms open,
the grocery cart 
upended, 
spring arriving.


groceries over your
arm, my hand inside
your pocket.


i love it
more.

eden inspired

 tiny basil sprouting (finally) in my recycled version of peat pots...an egg carton!

 perhaps i inherited it from my grandmother with her productive idaho garden, or from her daughter (my mother) for whom each year hope springs new as she considers her own garden possibilities.  life in japan proved that most people have the potential to grow anything anywhere as i observed tiny japanese balconies and porches pouring over with plant filled pots.  and the more i understand the benefits of organic and local food, the more i desire to grow my own.  what is the name of that singular pleasure summed up from digging in the earth, planting seeds, watering them, hoping, and watching tiny green sprouts emerge from the dirt? 

a shot of heirloom tomatoes from the aspen farmer's market last september. 

i shot 3 rolls of film at the market as it was a feast for the eyes.

 last summer i fell in love with heirloom tomatoes.  our CSA provided me with enough black, yellow and red gems to garner a taste for meaty, juicy tomatoes that tasted like nothing i've ever purchased from the supermarket.  a month or so ago i spotted a book at the bookstore called grow great grub: organic gardening for small spaces.  

 gayla trail originally started as a blogger http://www.yougrowgirl.com/thedirt/2007/03/30/tomatoes-to-grow-in-containers-or-otherwise/ as she documented her own container gardening on her apartment roof-top deck.

since our rented home is for sale, i had originally given up on garden possibilities this year.  however, galya's book opened up the option of starting a garden that i could take with me.  since i hope to reap the bounty of my harvest - container gardening seemed a perfect fit!  i found some heirloom tomato seeds at the local nursery and planted tomatoes from seed (inspired by my friend holly who has a huge garden in oregon).  and miracle of miracles...they actually sprouted!

black heirloom tomatoes that i started from seed in an old seedling pack.  

i can hardly believe they are growing!

it really felt like an exercise in faith as i watered the dirt for over a week before any green poked through.  but the sprouts have shot up and i hope that a few of them will turn into real tomato producing plants.  the plants still have about a month before they will be safe to plant outside (colorado still has potential for frost), so the story remains unfinished.

heirloom yellow pear sprouts (with 2nd generation leaves- the 3 pointed ones)!

last week i planted lettuce and arugula in outdoor containers, and today i planted some more basil and flat leaf parsley in indoor kitchen pots.  once again i've started watering my seeds in the dirt...hoping that more green life will spring up.  i find myself in awe of God and his design that provides so well for us.  the seeds once held in a tomato, lovingly dried and saved may birth many whole tomato plants.  i hope a happy ending awaits, but in the meantime it brings delight to participate in this little bit of eden, as small as it may be.

mysteries

my dad always gave me a rose or flower on valentine's day.  he understood that all women, and even little girls, love receiving flowers.  it speaks to something deep within, doesn't it?  well, he understood that, and he faithfully gave me flowers every year.  even when i lived in japan he asked my brother-in-law to make sure i had some floral reminder that my dad remembered me and loved me.  how i wish that every girl could be loved so well by their father.  he always called me his "beautiful, coordinated genius" (his unique term of endearment and encouragement).  and he was a wonderful encourager.

well every since my dad passed away, i have continued to receive flowers to "my beautiful coordinated genius" on valentine's day.  the first year i was astounded, and honestly i continue to be!  this year i was taken by surprise when the doorbell rang and these gorgeous tulips were delivered!  (i'm only sorry i didn't photograph them the first day!  however, they looked beautiful for over a week!) 


tears instantly sprang into my eyes when i read the words so dear to my heart.  my dad gave me what he knew i needed most- love. some people receive an inheritance of wealth or property.  my dad left me with an inheritance of encouragement that i could attempt anything, but whether i succeeded or failed, i knew his love was constant.  this fathering mirrored the love of God the Father.  riches, indeed.  

o

mr. fox

doesn't he look studious?

in the library about to tackle moby dick.

but alas, things are not always what they seem.

i can only begin to imagine what my own mr. fox 

might keep in his own hollow book...

from his mischievous grin, to his quirks, to his tender heart,

i love this man.

lectionary lovers

there are few to whom using a dictionary of this size would bring such joy. but as you can see from the ear-to-ear grin, kira is such a one.  we all added to our vocabulary on sunday when joanne referred to our "litigious society".  so we had to pull out the giant reference tome to discover its meaning. quite apropos for the scrabble divas.  we laughed our hearts out as well while joanne regaled us with hilarious stories from her life as a nurse practioner.  such fun.  sweet reunion.

the lectionary loving scrabble divas.

thanks friends!

(kira, erica, suz, joanne & beth) 

heirlooms

the last 10 years or so of my grandmother eunice's life, she would select various items of hers or my grandfather's that she thought her daughter or grandchildren might like and gave those as gifts.  

 one year she gave me a crystal dish and another year an antique watch.  one Christmas she wrapped this necklace in holly paper for me.  i treasure this particular heirloom not only due to its obvious beauty, but because it belonged to her.  and even more-so because this little piece carries a story and a bit of my own history.

in the mid-1930's, a particular gentlemen sold dresses door to door in "ark city", kansas.  one day he appeared at eunice's door.  the convincing salesman not only sold her a dress, but sold her on a date as well. 


not too much later when jim proposed to eunice, he gave her this diamond necklace in lieu of an engagement ring.


in the late-1990's, eunice gave it to me, her then unmarried granddaughter.  it was a token of hope for me that one day a man might propose to me. and as the wait stretched on, i would wear this necklace...daring to hope.  

though he didn't sell me a dress at the door, a certain man did indeed sell me on a second date and then a third.  when he knew i was sure of his love, on bended knee he gave me a diamond that he had chosen for me.  one more beautiful than i ever would have chosen.


more than one year later, this sparkling gem on my finger still catches my eye, and i revel in the chapters recently added to my own story. 

looking back

Looking back on 2009  

I learned....that being right isn't usually the point.

I grew most in…walking with my husband.  Being so independent for so long, I am unlearning some of that and learning a new pace of walking beside another.

Another way I saw myself growing was...moving away from the comfortable role of "Beth the teacher" into the less familiar "Beth the woman".

One of my best adventures was…backpacking in the Colorado wild with Scott.

I saw/knew God was doing something when…Scott and I made the decision for me to only work part-time, and then my sister's family unexpectedly moved to Colorado.

A real gift from God was…those who cried with us and loved us well.

Something I really enjoyed doing more of was...going to the farmers' market every week this summer and snowshoeing this winter (Thanks Joanne!)

One of the happiest memories of 2009 I’d like to freeze in my mind…being present for the birth of our godson.  To see a little life emerge into the world seems like a "thin place" where the Giver of Life is so obviously present.
(N.T. Wright talks about the Celtic tradition what is called the "thin places". The "thin places" hold a vision of reality that has at least two layers: the visible world of our ordinary experience and the sacred world. In the thin places the boundary between those two dimensions becomes permeable. Sometimes it becomes so thin or lifts entirely that we can see and hear the sacred life to which we are called. Jesus was a thin place. He wasn't the thing itself but a place through which we could see that other reality, what he called the kingdom.)

I was really brave when…I overcame some of my fear of driving on the ice.


Something I’ve grieved about this year was…the unexpected departure of a gift we were given for a much shorter time than expected. 


I’m still trying to learn what God wants to teach me through this hard experience…waiting again.

The best word of advice or encouragement I can remember is… a phrase that has long seemed cliche and trite to me, but when I began to take the words "Let go and let God" to heart, I have found them quite true.

One thing I’m looking forward to in 2010 is…becoming more alive as the woman God created me to be and having new adventures with my husband.

adventing

i began the season with advent preparation night at a local church with the women in my family.  my mom and i enjoyed wreath-making, while my sisters and nieces created advent calendars and ornaments.  it was a unique and thoughtful ministry, and we all took home an advent booklet to help us continue preparing.

then scott and i ushered in advent with the help of a taize service in early december.  the same chapel where we were married was lit only by candlelight and blanketed in quiet.  it probably took half of the hour long service to quiet me as my mind was rushing this way and that, but the songs which are very short and sung repeatedly finally began to get a hold of me.  the first song was, 

"wait for the Lord, whose day is near.  wait for the Lord: keep watch, take heart.” 

more silence.
someone read luke 1:26-29. 
another song,
“our soul is waiting for God.  our hearts find joy in the Lord”
someone else read verses 30-34 about mary.   

this little bit of luke, highlighted from the rest of the story, made me so aware that the advent and christmas story centers around a pregnancy and a birth.  in april, i had anticipated our own baby’s birth coinciding with advent this december.  and yet in the painful absence of a baby i think the familiar story struck a chord.  the people of God had waited centuries for the Messiah.  so the waiting aspect of advent is something i can understand a bit more this year…especially the first candle of hope.  

  not that this is the first time i've felt that deep sense of longing.  not too many years ago when i lived in japan, i felt poignantly that God had brought me into a long season of waiting.  perhaps we are always waiting for something - for someone to come around, for love, for healing, for God to break through someone’s despair or pain or lostness, for children, for wholeness…

i know that i wouldn’t have chosen the waiting for myself, but i am so grateful for it.  not that waiting is this fun, glorious thing that i would gift to others if i could, but i have seen how God often works deeply through it.  the story of God's people seems to be characterized by waiting.  even the four candles of the advent wreath symbolize the four centuries between malachi (the last prophet in the old testament) and the birth of Christ.  but the people of God did not wait in vain; God kept His promises to them.

 so now the weeks of advent have passed, and i have lit the candle of
hope,
then love,
joy and peace. 

christmas is almost here!
children are anticipating christmas morning with so much hope and expectation.
and i too am waiting for the Lord,
for His answers to my prayers.
for His kingdom to come,
for His will to be done,

for Him to return as He promised.

“wait for the Lord, whose day is near.  wait for the Lord: keep watch, take heart.” 

so i wait and hope to wait like the children are waiting,
eagerly, hopeful, and expecting great things.

one year in

somehow enough months and seasons have gone by 

that have made up a year.

on november 15th, 2008 we said our vows on 

a beautiful, blue-skied fall day.

we stood in black and white at the front of the chapel, 

making promises bigger than ourselves 

and trusting God to help us keep them.  

one year ago, surrounded by faces that love us, 

we stepped into marriage.

one year later, snow and ice covered the streets as we made 

our way to church.  a little further down the road of life together, 

we are learning to navigate the icy days a little better.  

and then there are those glorious days, too.

those are pure bliss.

scott offered me the gift of the written word, 

and i needed no more.  it was exactly what i wanted. 

for dinner we decided to return to the mona lisa, 

a local fondue restaurant where we had gone on our honeymoon.  

we were both surprised when they seated us 

in the same exact table!

from the cheese appetizer, to grilled meats to our 

almond joy dessert...our meal literally melted in our mouths.  

growing up, i often worried about marrying the wrong person.

i felt terrified of being stuck and wanting out or of 

waking up one day utterly dissatisfied.

but somewhere deep down, 

i knew that marriage could be really good.

then scott walked into my life and loved me.

he loved me first, without demanding love in return.

and he simply loved me and called me beautiful.

it held a certain ring of the familiar.

his love echoed the One who 

loved us both first.

on the day that marked day that God took away my fears, 

i was finally able to really begin loving scott.  

i too began to risk my heart.

not too many days later he met me at the end of the aisle 

with a grin reaching from ear to ear.

one year in, i've discovered that marriage can be really good.

in fact, it is even better than i even imagined.

two new books

two books have come to my attention this year, 

both written by people in my own community.

the first is an intimate story of one woman's journey into deeper intimacy with the Lord, as his beloved daughter.  the author?  pamela marhad, the mother of one of my closest friends.  beautifully written in part allegory, part dialogue, the author honestly reveals her own feelings of inadequacy and God's seemingly unbelievable responses to her.  the message is certainly one i can relate to, and that i know many women are longing to hear.  the result is a new kind of devotional aptly titled,

He Calls me Beloved.

http://www.amazon.com/He-Calls-Beloved-Pamela-Marhad/dp/1414113145/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

the second is ready just in time for christmas.  written by a man whose blog i follow and illustrated by a woman in my church.  it is a retelling of the nativity story from luke 1 & 2 with some added fictional first- person perspectives, the familiar becoming wonderfully unfamiliar once again.  although i have yet to read it, the author writes and speaks like an old-time story-teller with the fresh perspective of one who walks with God.

the author?  john blase.  

the illustrator?  amanda jolman.  

i can't wait to read it myself.

Touching Wonder 

http://www.amazon.com/Touching-Wonder-Recapturing-Awe-Christmas/dp/1434764656/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256829022&sr=1-1

if you're interested, both books are available from amazon.com.

happy reading.

pixar's "Up"

just a few years ago i didn't even know what pixar was.

and to further my shame,

i placed all animated movies in a category,

or lesser class, all of their own.

needless to say, i never watched.

but then a few summers ago between conversations over

dinner and in the park, someone i've come to be rather fond of

expressed his delight in the quality and depth of story

found in certain animated films.

though skeptical, i listened and eventually

watched ratatouille.

guess what?

i actually liked it.

this time it was my suggestion -

"Up".

.

within the first few minutes beneath the big screen

a story of two lives

- carl & ellie-

had already been silently told.

it seemed complete all on its own,

a sweet adventure of joy mingled sorrow

that echoed so many of my own hopes and fears.

with tears still wet on my face

the silent ballad ended.

i wondered for a moment if the film was over.

i knew the movie had really just begun,

though i couldn't imagine the story improving.

surprisingly, it did.

the country of marriage

compliments of wendell berry

iii.

"sometimes our life reminds me

of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.

 

The forest is mostly dark, its ways 

to be made anew day after day, the dark 

richer than the light and more blessed, 

provided we stay brave 

enough to keep on going in."

sometimes i just want to stay in the lovely house 
and garden in the light,
but the forest is equally part of the beauty of this country.

thank you scott, my love,
for having the courage to walk
into the forest depths with me.

tears come in the quiet

quiet, hush.

the magical stillness of a starry night,
the silent awe of sacred ceremony,
the look between lover and beloved
pushes down the words and invites wonder.

but no, not that quiet,
not that hush.

a break from the bustle that characterized
her days. forced rest. long hours of quiet.
she anticipated cries, but not hers.
arms intended to comfort now empty.

the hush of
quiet sadness.

days peppered with friends,
but quiet sadness served as the main course.
surrounded by quiet she heard things before
muffled if they sounded at all.

hush, listen.

the breeze brushes the sheers
as the wind brings them to life. footsteps
crunch the gravel under the mailbox,
and the post lid creaks before its filling.

hush, there's more
to hear.

pattering rain suddenly shifts
to pounding hail just for a moment.
distant thunder rolls and the
leaves shiver in anticipation.

listen.

her chatter belies the undercurrent
of pain. in the quiet when she
cannot speak, the lost creek
emerges fuller than she knew.

quiet yourself.

in this clearing, don't rush ahead.
all space needs not filling.
for tears come in the quiet,
and there is beauty here.

hush.